Harry Potter and the Frozen Souls
by Salric
Summary: Harry is withdrawing into himself after the death of Sirius. He meets others who are going through similar experiences. Possible romance, R to be on the safe side for language. Matchups not certain yet. Abandoned.
1. Prologue: Beginnings

**Harry Potter and the Frozen Souls**

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns every single thing in this entire story except for Alexander Smith, who is a character of my own creation, and the plot of the story, which she can have if she wants as long as she lets me keep writing this. I have gotten, am getting, and will get no monetary or physical reward for writing this story. I am merely doing this for my own enjoyment, the enjoyment of the readers, and to practice and improve my writing ability.

* * *

_Prologue: Beginnings_

"Look, Albus, this isn't really my business, but…it's about Harry."

Albus Dumbledore finally turned to face his visitor. Molly Weasley's face was giving away her concern for the boy, and it was something out of the ordinary to bring her all the way up to Hogwarts and away from her family in the middle of the summer. He raised an eyebrow. "What about him, Molly?"

"Well, Ron's been writing him letters, and Harry's been somewhat…curt…in his answers. Ron brought this to my attention. His most recent answer was, and I quote, 'I'm fine. See you in Diagon Alley before the start of next year. Harry.' That's not like him. I'm afraid the boy might be more upset about…that night in the Ministry…than we understand. I'm not saying that we shouldn't give him some space, because I think he needs it, but…" She broke off and let that hang in the air.

Dumbledore nodded. That wasn't normal for Harry. It sounded like he'd totally withdrawn after _that night in the Ministry_, which wasn't healthy. "We'll keep an eye on him surreptitiously, Molly. That's all we can do, and that's all I think we _should_ do. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, though. We can only hope that he's ready to return to society by the end of the summer. We can't lose him."

"No, Albus, we can't. Albus…one more suggestion…have Remus talk to him." With those words, Molly turned and left his office, leaving him alone again. _Remus_. Why Remus?

* * *

Harry Potter sat in his room thinking. Thinking hurt, but so did everything else these days. The pain was minimal. He ignored it. No one cared about him. He didn't really care about them either. He could wall himself away from the world, close himself behind a wall of ice, present a cold exterior. Who needed the world, anyways? He supposed he should go through the motions of living, but he didn't really feel like it. 

A graying owl swooped in through the window and left a letter on his desk. It was an official-looking envelope, so he opened it, unlike everything else. Everyone was just pretending to care. How could they like someone who'd pretty much killed his parents, killed his godfather, killed everyone? Everyone he cared about died. He wasn't going to let anyone else in. They'd just die too.

He opened the envelope. It was his O.W.L. results. Defense Against the Dark Arts, Outstanding. Divination, Acceptable. Transfiguration, Outstanding. Charms, Outstanding. Potions, Outstanding. He cracked a half smile at that one. Snape was going to hate him more. His expression returned quickly to the cold emotionless state. Care of Magical Creatures, Exceeds Expectations. Herbology, Exceeds Expectations. Not bad, not bad at all.

* * *

Blaise Zabini sat in her room. She'd gotten her O.W.L. results back, and seven Outstandings was nothing to sneer at. Not that she'd sneer, or show any expression at all. Her fellow Slytherins called her the Queen of Frost and other similar stupidities, and not for nothing. No one cared about Blaise Zabini, and she didn't really care about the world. Downstairs, she heard the man who was technically her father arguing with the parent of a fellow Slytherin. 

"No, Lucius, I've never thought about joining the Dark Lord. Why on earth would I? I admit I'm not a fan of that fool Dumbledore, but my great-grandfather was a Dark Lord at least as powerful as your Lord Voldemort, and look where _he_ got us. I'm sorry, Mr. Malfoy, but you may tell your master that all House Zabini will offer him is a pledge of neutrality and perhaps a business association. If he wants to buy information or rare magical artifacts, we are available for such things. And we will pledge not to join the forces amassing _against_ your Lord. We want no part of a war."

"You may not have that choice, Nergul Zabini. The war may force itself on you. But for now, the Dark Lord will accept what little you have offered him and leave House Zabini to withdraw into itself. If you should reconsider, however…I understand you have a daughter at Hogwarts, in Slytherin, of course. My son Draco may have messages from the Dark Lord to pass on to you, so tell her to do so."

"Of course, Lucius. A good day to you."

* * *

"We're doing _what?_" Alexander Paul Smith was not happy, and it showed in his voice and expression. The tall, black-haired young man was glaring at his mother in total rage. 

"Moving to England. I've been promoted to the Division Head for Europe." Well, that made things slightly better. His mother was in the Department of Magical Affairs, which was in charge of the magical community of the United States, although technically the President was still their head of state. In fact, the current President was a Squib, so he governed them pretty fairly. Elizabeth Smith was in the Division of Foreign Relations in the DoMA, and a continental Division Head was pretty prestigious. "Don't worry about your schooling. You're transferring to Hogwarts. They're accepting you as a sixth year, and they've got a system for taking your M.A.T. scores as their O.W.L. tests. You've got seven Outstandings by their system. Now cheer up!"

Alex sighed. "Yes, Mother." It wasn't like he hadn't expected something like this to happen. Life never stayed good for long. That was why he never let himself get attached to anyone. He'd learned the stupidity of shutting himself away from the world a few years ago, but now he just played with the world. _Live life, ignore the rules, and it doesn't matter who you do it with or who you wake next to in the morning._ That was his philosophy, and it served him well. "I'd better start packing, then, hadn't I?" With that he walked upstairs and left his mother more than a little surprised at his capitulation.


	2. Chapter 1: Introductions

Alex Smith stood looking at signs. There was Platform 9, and there was Platform 10, and there was a boy pushing a trunk with an owl in a cage into a pillar. Ah. That would be how you did it then. He looked around and then pulled his own trunk—it had wheels—behind him as he walked straight into the same pillar and through. A scarlet red old-style train sat at the platform and people of all magical stripes stood around him. Damned trains, why couldn't they just set up Portkeys instead? Behind him, another boy walked through. The kid looked about his age, and with that black untidy hair, those glasses, and that "Yeah, yeah" expression on his face, the kid could be his cousin. So Alex walked over to the kid.

"Hi." The guy's voice came out cold. Alex recognized that particular tone. The kid was withdrawn. "Who are you? I don't know you."

"The name's Alex Smith. I'm a transfer student. American. Sixth year. You?"

"Harry Potter." He waited. Alex obviously disappointed him with his lack of open-mouthed gaping. Of course the American had heard of the "Boy-Who-Lived," but he didn't really care. "Nice to meet you. So we just get our stuff up on the train and find somewhere to sit?"

"Pretty much." He looked like he was going to say more, but a red-haired guy and a girl with bushy dirty blonde hair ran at him screaming his name, and by the time he'd disentangled himself from them Alex was gone.

* * *

Harry was a little shaken by the fact that this kid Smith didn't show _any_ reaction to the name. Even the most controlled person he'd met had at least widened his eyes a little. It was refreshing, to say the least. He was about to add something when Ron and Hermione basically tackled him. He carefully disengaged himself, and by the time he'd managed that Smith had gone off toward the train.

"Who was that?" Hermione, of course, wanting to know everything. Ron piled on top of her question. "And why haven't you given us any real answers to our letters?"

Harry simply shrugged. "Told me his name was Alex Smith. Transfer student."

Ron pressed. "You didn't answer my question." The only answer he got was a shrug from Harry and a look from Hermione that told him clearer than words not to push any further. So he changed the subject. "Did he tell you anything else?"

"Not too much. He's American, and he's in our year. That's all he told me."

Hermione looked surprised. "Transfer students are incredibly rare, Harry. Especially outside of the European schools. The Americans don't go by O.W.L.s, so he'd have to have gotten some kind of special dispensation. The last time we had a transfer student from anywhere was twenty years ago, from Beauxbatons. Before you ask, it was in _Hogwarts, a History_." The three looked at each other, and then the whistle told them to get on the train.

* * *

Alex found an empty compartment and sat down. Comfortable. He might as well take a nap. Damn time difference. His internal clock was still somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, and he was tired. He'd almost gotten to sleep when two things happened at the same time that together dismissed any chance of him sleeping. First, the train started moving, and the rumbling on the tracks meant that it was going to be just as impossible to sleep on this thing as it was on a Muggle airplane. Secondly, a girl walked into the compartment.

She was beautiful, in the way that ice is beautiful. Perfect waist-length blonde hair, perfect face, impossibly perfect body, fair skin, and blue eyes, and a very icy expression. Coldly, haughtily, she said, "Good day. The other compartments are either full or have people I do not chose to sit with in them. Therefore I will sit here unless you mind."

Alex nodded. "Not at all." He said it politely, in perfectly mannered tones that he'd learned from his mother. He'd had to go to several formal receptions, and the child of a diplomat was supposed to be just as diplomatic as the parent. No coldness in the tone, no warmth, nothing but pure politeness. She got it. He could tell that. Her face might have been expressionless, but her body language told him a lot. She was somewhat wary, somewhat curious, and not at all interested. Inwardly, he sighed. Outwardly, he gave no sign. "Alex Smith."

"Blaise Zabini. Slytherin House."

"Transfer student. No House yet."

"You are American." It wasn't a question, so Alex didn't answer it. "What year will you be joining?"

"Sixth year." He saw her nod in answer to that.

"Well, welcome." She didn't sound like she meant it. Alex recognized the _going through the politeness crap_ tone. He was struggling to think of something else to say when a trio burst in through the door. Two gorilla-like brutes followed the obvious leader, a blonde boy with a smirk on his face.

"Hey, Frost Lady, you want to come with us and warm up a bit?" The goons leered at those words.

"No, thank you, Draco. Why don't you go bother Potter, he's probably more open to your advances, and more to your tastes." Alex chuckled at the not-so-subtle insult that Zabini delivered without batting an eyelash.

"Something funny, transfer-boy? What happened, the Americans expel you? Oh, yeah, I know who you are, my father's on the Board of Governors. Washington Institute of Magical Studies. Sounds like a psychiatric ward to me."

Alex yawned and stood up, towering over the boy, although this kid Draco wasn't short. Alex wasn't very heavy, but he had height. Then he grinned evilly at the kid. "It was. You'd have fit in perfectly. Draco Malfoy, I presume? I've heard of you too. Your father's on the Board of Governors." Alex let out a little snort to show what he thought of that. "I'll see you around, _Draco_." He snorted again, then gave Malfoy a little shove and slid the door closed in his face. Holding it closed, he fiddled with the lock so it could only be opened from the inside, and then he sat down again. "Quite the little annoyance you have there."

Blaise merely nodded. "No arguing with that." She was still cold, but her coldness seemed a little less…overbearing, somehow.


	3. Chapter 2: Arrival

The rest of the trip passed in silence. Blaise pulled out a magazine and started reading it, and Alex, for lack of anything better to do, pulled his cloak over his head and, to his surprise, managed to get to sleep. He woke up about twenty minutes before they pulled in at Hogwarts. The English countryside wasn't much to look at anyways, in his opinion.

They were met at the station by a group of carriages pulled by invisible beings that Alex presumed from his reading were thestrals. There was also an enormous man waiting there. "Firs' years! Firs' years this way! He was holding a photo in his off hand, and when Alex got off the train, he said, somewhat quieter, "Mister Smith? You'll be comin' with us, then. All righ' then, firs' years, follow me! Smith, you comin?"

"Right. Coming." The man led them down to the lake, and Alex got his first view of Hogwarts. It was a castle. A very hugely twisted castle that was obviously magical. He understood why all the anti-Muggle spells were on it. The sheer aura of magic around the thing was enough to make his head hurt.

The man called "Four to a boat now! Four to a boat!" He turned to Alex. "You're big enough that we'll take the same boat. I'm Professor Hagrid, Care of Magical Creatures." Alex nodded, as Professor Hagrid continued. "Pleasure t'meet you. So what House do you think you'll be in?"

Alex shrugged as he got into the boat. "Haven't given it much thought. Doesn't really matter to me. Are Houses really all that important? I mean, of course there's rivalries, and they play Quidditch together, and they live together, but do they block friendships?"

Hagrid nodded seriously. "Yeah, they do. Not always, but often enough. 'Specially between Slytherin and t'other three. I mean, Hufflepuff gets along with everyone who'll let them, an' Ravenclaw keeps the rivalries friendly, but you don' wanna get on the bad side of Gryffindor. An' Slytherin…well, you start on their bad side. Possible to get on their good side if you really wanna, but that puts you on Gryffindor's bad side."

Alex sighed. "I get the feeling that I'm going to annoy people because I don't know the little social rules. Oh, well. You live life." He got a big grin and an enthusiastic nod for the last line.

"You live life. Don' matter what they throw at you, so long as you're alive and enjoyin' yourself. Eh?"

Alex nodded. "That's what you gotta do," he said as their boat pulled up to the dock.

They were met by a woman with very forbidding spectacles. "Right this way, then, Mr. Smith, first years. I am Professor McGonagall. Mr. Smith, as a transfer student, you'll be Sorted first. Right this way." They stopped in a small room. "Mr. Smith, come with me. First years, stay here. Sir Nicholas?" A ghost who had been hovering in a corner floated over to them. "Could you watch the first years for a bit?" The ghost bowed, and turned to the first years with a jolly smile.

Alex followed Professor McGonagall out into what he knew from his reading was the Great Hall. He looked around in a bemused fashion as McGonagall led him to an old beat-up hat on a stool. "Ladies and Gentlemen, this is Alexander Smith. Mr. Smith is a transfer student from the Washington Institute of Magical Studies in Washington, DC, and will be joining the sixth year. He will be Sorted prior to the main Sorting Ceremony." She paused and glared at the hat, and continued softly enough that only Alex…and the hat on the stool…could hear her. "That includes the song. Right, then, Mr. Smith, if you would sit on the stool with the hat on your head?"

Alex did so, and the hat spoke to him in his mind. Not his first experience with that. "Now don't mind that old bat, you'll get to hear the song later. Let's get down to business. Hmm…plenty of courage, plenty of cunning and ambition, oh my, a total passion for knowledge, not so much desire to help your fellow man, though, pity about that. You'll do well wherever I put you, but I think I'm going to go with RAVENCLAW!" The last word was shouted out loud so everyone in the hall could hear, and applause was heard. He took the hat off, and McGonagall gestured him towards the table clapping the hardest.

He sat in an empty seat, next to a pair of young men about his age who immediately started questioning him about the American magical schooling system, but fell silent as the true first years walked into the room. The hat sang some song about the Houses that Alex didn't really listen to, the first years were Sorted, and Alex started answering his fellow students' questions.

"The American schooling system is actually based on the Muggle system. You're put into elementary school at the age of four or five, you're taught math, science, grammar, spelling, history, geography, and stupidly basic magic. You go into a middle school at the age of ten or so, and then into high school at thirteen or fourteen. The older you get, they put more focus on magic and less on Muggle things, but the main difference is that you're targeted to graduate at seventeen instead of eighteen like in the Muggle American schools. The Institutes of Magical Studies are a group of pretty prestigious combined middle and high schools."

One of the other sixth years leaned across the table. "But America doesn't have the O.W.L.s, does it? It has those other tests. Did the N.E.W.T. board accept those instead of O.W.L.s for you?"

Alex smiled. "Not exactly. The N.E.W.T. board passed my Magical Aptitude Test results on to the O.W.L. board, which awarded me O.W.L.s based on my M.A.T.s. That seemed to be the simplest way to handle the situation."

"So what happened to bring you here? I heard from somewhere that you got expelled." The girl to his left grinned to show him what she thought of _that_ idea.

"You heard from Malfoy, I take it. No, my mother works in the Department of Magical Affairs. Division of Foreign Relations. She got promoted, up to European Section Head." He grinned a little. "She's starting to get a little bit of a swelled head."

"And your Dad? What does he do?" Alex's grin disappeared like it had never been and his face turned stony. "My father was a Blue Eagle, our version of the Aurors. He died fighting the forces of Voldemort the _last_ time the bastard tried to take power." Some people around him flinched at the name. "That's part of the reason why the American government is taking such an interest in England. They're worried that your Ministry isn't going to take the Dark Lord seriously again, and they're leaning on your Minister to _do_ something."

"You said part of the reason, Alex?" It was the girl who'd asked him about his transfer, trying to break the awkward silence that followed his words. "What's the other part?"

He grinned at her again like the awkwardness had never happened. Jokingly, he said, "If I told you, I'd have to kill you." Everyone laughed as the conversation smoothly went into much less serious topics of conversation.

He glanced over to the Slytherin table once or twice, spotting Blaise each time. The second time, he caught her looking at _him_. He gave her a solemn nod, and smiled inwardly when she returned it.

That night, in his new bed, he thought over the day. And the thing that stuck with him the most was what the Sorting Hat had told him. _You'll do well wherever I put you._


	4. Chapter 3: Awakenings

_He was looking down at the man in front of him. When he spoke, his voice was high, cold, piercing. "Wormtail." The man shivered. "What news?"_

_The man spoke. "Halloween. They shall decide on Halloween, and they will make their decision clear. If your servants return, than we shall know they have joined, my Lord."_

"_Very good. I see no reason why they will not join us." His eyes closed. "Enjoying the view, Potter?"_

Harry Potter woke up trying to scream, but no sound came out. He shuddered at the cold that surrounded him. He looked down at himself. He was glowing blue-green, his entire body. He felt cold, yet not cold, everywhere. Everywhere except his scar, which was still burning. He glanced at his roommates.

Dean, Seamus, and Ron were still asleep, but Neville was staring at him in shock. "Blimey, Harry," he whispered. "How are you doing that?"

"Dunno," he whispered back. "Don't tell anyone though?" Seeing Neville's nod, he shut his eyes for a moment and tried to will it away. He felt like something had been sucked into his pores, like it was sitting right under his skin. The cold didn't disappear, but when he reopened his eyes, the glow had. The burning from his scar had subsided as well. He shut his eyes again and went back to sleep.

Neville stared at him for a few more seconds, then padded back over to the window he'd been looking through when the glow had distracted him. He looked up at the stars, took a deep breath, and let it out with a peaceful smile. Then he looked over towards the Ravenclaw dormitories and saw a figure in a window, a figure he recognized. He smiled again and waved. The figure waved back and left the window. Neville took another deep breath and went back to bed.

Luna Lovegood had been looking out the window in the Ravenclaw common room over towards Neville's window, waiting for him to appear like he did every night, when the green-blue glow had become visible. She stiffened in shock, but the glow disappeared quickly. Then she saw Neville appear in his window and saw him stare at the stars briefly before he waved at her. She smiled as he waved to her, and she waved back, then left the window and sat down on her bed, hard. The glow had to have been Harry Potter, and she was worried. The Frozen Soul was not a good sign. She sighed. There was nothing she could do about it except keep an eye on him. She went to bed.

In the Slytherin dungeons, a blue-green aura flared around Blaise Zabini, and she whimpered slightly before it disappeared into her and she relaxed again. No one saw it.

In the Ravenclaw boys' rooms, Alex Smith woke up screaming, glowing blue-green as bright as daylight, babbling about the cold and ice. It was a warm night. No one heard him, but he knew what had happened. His Frozen Soul had found others to surround. He shivered, then closed his eyes and sent out his senses. Zabini and Potter. He could save Zabini if she wanted to be saved. But this was going to help Potter. A Frozen Soul could guard him if he knew how to use it. He just needed to learn how not to let the bastards grind him down.


	5. Chapter 4: Annoyances

_**Frozen Souls:**_

_There is a condition known as the Frozen Soul that occasionally overtakes wizards and witches between the ages of fourteen and eighteen, slightly more common among males. Theories abound as to its origin, but one fact is certain: only those who have already achieved a certain emotional distance ever develop it. The first manifestation is always at night. A sense of extreme cold sweeps over the person's body and a blue-green aura seeps out of their skin. A minor effort of concentration is all that is necessary to regain control of the aura and lessen the cold to bearable levels._

_After their first manifestation, Frozen Souls have been seen to display impressive magical abilities both with and without wands. The only one absolutely confirmed is further manifestations of their auras, which cause pain to any but other Frozen Souls whose skin comes in contact with the aura._

_Little else is known about this condition by those who are not Frozen Souls, as these people tend to cut themselves off socially from all other humans save each other. Rumors speculate that the Frozen Souls can instantly recognize each other as such, and at the very least they understand each other quite well._

_Uncommon Conditions of Magical Persons_

* * *

"Good morning." It wasn't all that good, actually, thanks to this godforsaken climate and the time difference, but Alex always stuck to the formalities. 

Apparently, Luna Lovegood didn't. "It isn't really all that good, is it? The weather is horrible, and you look like you had trouble sleeping. To top that, you seem to me to be the kind of person who doesn't ever find mornings good."

Alex stared at her. "Quite." He plopped down in a chair across from her window seat in the near-empty Ravenclaw common room. "I don't find mornings good, precisely, but they're not particularly bad, either. That's how I see most things. Sometimes I feel like I'm just going through the motions of living, but then…" He looked closer at her. "You didn't sleep well either."

"No. I saw something that concerned me. I know what it was, but not much about it. I'm trying to see if there's anything more about it in books." To emphasize her point, she picked up the copy of _Uncommon Conditions_.

"Maybe I could help? I know quite a bit about some of the things in that book that it doesn't describe very well. Which condition were you looking at?" Alex had a pretty fair guess…if she'd been looking out the right window at the right time, she could have seen Potter's manifestation, but it wouldn't do to let her know that he knew.

"Know much about the Frozen Soul beyond what's in the books?" There it was. The question he'd expected her to ask, and there it was.

In answer he raised his right hand, and allowed his aura to manifest around the hand only. Then he drew it back in and observed her reaction. She stared at him, only a slight widening of the eyes and the fact that she was paying absolutely _no_ attention to the book anymore betraying her shock. Her mouth opened as if to ask a question, but he shook his head, stood up again, and went down to breakfast.

* * *

As he was about to walk into the Entrance Hall on his way to the Great Hall, he heard voices ahead. Curious, he stopped in the little side doorway. Malfoy and Potter were staring each other down, each with two companions behind them. Malfoy had his two gorillas cracking their knuckles, and behind Potter, hands on their wands, were a red-headed boy and a bushy-haired girl. Malfoy spoke first. "Well, Potter, how have you been? Any little…_tragedies_ you might want to talk about? Perhaps you lost your…_pet_?" 

Obviously, this enraged Potter for some reason, as his two sidekicks were holding him back from physically injuring Malfoy. Alex analyzed the situation quickly. He was already on Malfoy's bad side, he should get on Potter's good side if Potter was another Frozen Soul, and it was _not_ a good idea for Potter to accidentally manifest so publicly. So Alex sighed, took out his wand, pointed it at Malfoy, and muttered a little incantation under his breath. Malfoy immediately dropped to his knees and started bowing to Potter, forehead hitting the ground lightly each time. The image was spoiled by the solid stream of profanity coming from his mouth.

Alex smiled lightly and walked up. "Morning, Potter. Malfoy, are you all right? I mean, I could understand you being taken by Potter's charm and good looks if you swing that way, but somehow you don't seem the type. Well, I've misjudged people before." The red-head gave a snort of laughter just as a greasy-haired professor walked up and glared at the lot of them.

"Mr. Potter, what have you done to Mr. Malfoy? Ten points from…" Alex interrupted him. "Sir, Mr. Potter didn't do anything to Mr. Malfoy. Mr. Potter does not have his wand out, and did not when I observed Mr. Malfoy begin this behavior. I also observed no telltale signs of a curse hitting Mr. Malfoy. The logical conclusion is that either Mr. Malfoy is doing this of his free will, or he was cursed before he entered this room."

The Professor switched the glare from Potter to Alex, who stared back unblinkingly. Then he turned to Malfoy and muttered, "Finite Incantem." The curse didn't lift, of course. Alex had put much too much power behind that for this. The Professor turned back to him. "Mr. Smith, since you seem so observant, what do you believe to have caused this behavior?"

"I would venture to guess at an Irrational Compulsion Charm, sir. May I?" Without waiting for an answer, he drew his own wand and pointed it at Malfoy, muttering "Finite Compulsio." He glanced up at the Professor, who nodded, and stalked off without a word. Malfoy and his goons glared at Alex, Potter, and Potter's sidekicks, and turned to leave. Alex grinned, and called after him, "Malfoy!"

Malfoy turned to glare at him again. "What is it, _Smith?_"

Alex's grin grew wider and slyer. "I just saved you from getting your neck snapped by Potter. I may have to call in that life-debt some day." Four jaws dropped. Potter was the first to recover, turning it into a smirk. The sidekicks just stared. Malfoy glared…but nodded. Potter's jaw dropped again. Then Malfoy was gone. Alex winked at the trio, then sauntered off, saying, "Thanks, Potter."

It had turned out to be a better morning than usual.


End file.
